Catholics are a peculiar bunch.
There are only one billion of us in the world, which forces us to realize that there are five billion people in the world who disagree with us. Still, things make sense to us, and for that, we continue the practice of who we are, as we are.
Sure we’ve got our problems, but who doesn’t?
Earlier this week Sr. Jean said to me, “I’ve often thought about leaving, but if I left, where would I go?”
I often feel the same way, even though there are Jewish, Muslim, and Protestant friends of mine who might read that comment and say something like, “You can go here! We don’t have silly things like Transubstantiation and Papal Infallibility.”
This is true, but the thing is, to Catholics, those things aren’t silly. They’re part of who we are. They are part of our self-understanding, for better or worse, just like the idiosyncrasies of other faiths and denominations are part of their self-understanding.
But stepping outside of one’s tradition, even for a brief while can give a good perspective on why you don’t leave, why things fit, or don’t fit, in the culture from which you come. This year, I’ve had the chance to step into Buddhist temples, Mosques, Synagogues, and these experiences have taught me respect for other traditions, as well as respect for my own. Today, I went to visit the sacred grounds of an extinct religious cult, the Mexican pyramids of Teotihuacan. If you have downloaded Google Earth onto your computer, you can view my pictorial of the pyramids by clicking here.
We don’t know everything about the pyramids, but what we have picked up from the religious cult of the Aztecs when the Spanish conquest of Mexico began was that human sacrifice was a daily practice. They would kill a young woman every day on the top of the great pyramid, pulling out her beating heart, all so that the sun would continue to make its journey across the earth, and life could continue.
I was really surprised when I reached the top of the great pyramid at Teotihuacan. When I got there, there was a line of women waiting to lie down on the peak of the pyramid, in a prostrate position, re-creating the sensation of what it was to be sacrificed to the sun, which was beating over our heads.
I recall thinking a few different things. First, I thought… I am glad that they aren’t naked. The second thought is related to the first. Perhaps the Aztecs utilized human sacrifice as Darwinistic approach to getting rid of the ugly ones of the tribe, but more akin to what a Christian should be thinking, I was just glad that human religious practices have evolved beyond the brutal practice of human sacrifice.
The good and the bad of the Aztecs was that their system of religious beliefs made sense to them. As I made my descent down the pyramid, I was reminded that a pyramid is the shape of a triangle, which Christians us to represent the Trinity, a concept that makes sense to Christians, but is otherwise hard to explain. I once had a conversation with a Muslim that went like this,
“We believe that God is one.” He said.
“Well that’s what we believe too.” Said I.
“But you have the Trinity.”
“Yes.”
“Then God is three.”
“No. God is one… but three. Look... it makes sense to us. OK?”
I recalled that conversation today because I went to Holy Trinity parish today, the pictures of which can be found in the Google Earth Pictorial. Catholics are brought up to believe in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. It is one of our foundational beliefs. Few of us ever really challenge that belief, or try to understand it beyond what it takes to get our Godmother to surrender a piece of candy for reciting the magic formula that releases the candy.
There are however very good explanations of the Trinity for those who seek an answer to the mystery. I tend to prefer the twentieth century theologian, Karl Rahner’s reduction. The Creed (which is based on the Trinity) at its simplest form, basically mean,
“No love is ever lost.”
When we love, even half-heartedly, it never goes to waste, but is brought to perfection within the Divine Providence of God.
I’ve been wrestling with a choice for several weeks now. “How to end this pilgrimage?” I’ve known for a long time that a pilgrimage of solidarity should also include solidarity with those who are forced to be pilgrims, the migrant people of the world. While not trying to draw decisive conclusions about American politics, I knew that I had to explore the reality of migrants to the United States. I had limited the choices the either Texas or the Arizona. The difficulty of the choice for me was the fact that I knew God was in either direction. I would find love for my brothers and sisters in Arizona. I would find love for my brothers and sisters in Texas… and no love is ever lost. Right? The only thing that seemed to be lost was the time I had waned in making a decision.
I prayed a great deal about the choice when I was at Holy Trinity parish. I thought about it on the pyramids. Finally, I just asked Ines to tell me what to do, after all, I asked for a “miracle” to happen when I visited the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe and Ines showed up. She was my “miracle,” and I figured a miracle should be good for something more than just buying lunch.
I told Ines the choice I was facing and the options that I had, and she wrote two things on two pieces of paper, and shook them in her hands.
“Now pick one.” Ines said.
I looked at her oddly, and then recalled that the Apostle Bartholomew was chosen to replace Judas after the death and resurrection of Jesus by the same system. If the Apostles could believe that a lottery was the will of God, well… I guess I could too. It made sense to me, and it reinforced my belief that every thirty seconds, you make a decision that changes the future forever. Do I believe my encounter with Ines was mere chance? Do I believe in miracles? Do I believe in lotteries?
As I said before, Catholics are a peculiar bunch
.
To Arizona I will go.